


Bend and Break

by huntresssarrows, odair4



Category: Hunger Games (2012) RPF, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4617384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntresssarrows/pseuds/huntresssarrows, https://archiveofourown.org/users/odair4/pseuds/odair4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Gale are in a struggling relationship after their daughter Willow is born. Can they find love with each other or will other people grasp their attention?</p><p>Portions from Gale's point of view written by Huntressarrows, and those from Katniss' perspective written by Odair4</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Katniss

 

Willow begins to grow restless in my weakening arms. I don’t think I can take much more of her kicking me incessantly in the side, and her weight, though not particularly heavy at all, is becoming difficult to continue carrying. Maybe it is time to start the trek home I’ve prolonged from our walk around the neighborhood, darkness is beginning to taint tonight’s luminous sunset already anyway.

Gale must still be out with Vick and Posy scouring the jeweler’s to choose a necklace for his mother’s birthday. At least I think that’s what he’d told me this morning curtly just before heading out. I was half asleep still. Wherever he may be, I don’t see our car in the driveway.

I’m secretly relieved whenever he’s out of the house. It’s almost as though our little two bedroom split level home isn’t large enough to accommodate for the both of us and our pugnacious tendencies, and for the sake of our daughter, it’s almost better when we’re not around each other to constantly bicker about the most menial things. We’d never admit it, though.

This living arrangement had worked seamlessly for the first year and a half, just like we’d planned, but lately it feels as though we’ve grown tired of each other. It’s not a pleasant feeling. Gale and I have been inseparable since before we could walk- according to recollections of our parents, and any future involving the two of us remaining anything but has always been utterly unforeseeable. Now; however, Willow is the only force holding us together. No longer is it the unbreakable bonds of our friendship and love, but simply our daughter. She is the only thing preventing one of us from simply packing our bags and leaving. He and I love her relentlessly. We tolerate each other.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before your father gets home,” I say, hurrying to carry her up the stairs before my arms give out.

By the time I get the bathwater running and Willow to cooperate with me, I hear our front door creak open and some heavy footsteps tread around downstairs. Then they head upstairs, and Gale’s stepping into the bathroom.

“Daddy!” Willow cries excitedly, flailing her arms and dousing the front of my shirt with splashes of tepid water.

Gale smiles and offers her a playful wave hello.

“Did you pick out a nice necklace?” I ask him, my concentration still fixated on shampooing my daughter’s dark, silky hair.

“Yes, a very nice one, too, I think. A silver chain with a sapphire pendant.”

I nod. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

I hope she does. Maybe Willow isn’t the only thing keeping Gale and I under the same roof. Hazelle Hawthorne has been something of a second mother to me ever since Gale and I found out we were pregnant with our daughter during my senior year of high school, which by that time he’d since graduated the previous year. Prior to that even, I’d still known her very well as I’d spent maybe even more time at her house than my own when Gale and I were younger. When announcing that we were with child eventually became unavoidable, Hazelle definitely took the news better than my mother. Probably even better than I’d taken it myself! Since then, I’m sure I’ve gone to her seeking guidance in more cases than I’ve asked my own mother for help.

I’ve already gotten her a new set of mixing bowls for her birthday on Tuesday.

Gale still hasn’t left the room. He leans against the doorframe.

“I took Vick and Posy out for dinner tonight on the way back from the jewelry store. I brought something home for you. It’s on the counter if you’re hungry,” he tells me.

This is the first gesture of consideration that one of us has shown the other in a while. I bid him a genuinely grateful thank you, but still he lingers in the doorway.

“You look pretty tired,” he observes.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Let me finish giving Willow her bath, you should get to sleep. I’m sure you need it.”

I’m not sure if his remarks are an attempt at kindness or an attempt at pointing out how awful I must look, but either way I jump at the opportunity. It’s about time he takes some responsibility for her!

Walking into the kitchen, I see a paper bag adorned with the Mellark Bakery seal. Inside are two pristine cheese buns. Gale knows they’re my favorite, which leads me to thinking that maybe things are looking up for us.

➵

Willow’s asleep by the time I get around to checking on her. Perfectly tucked into her crib by her father. She’s getting a little big for it - I’ll have to take that up with him.

But Gale, too, is already sleeping soundly when I enter the room. I change into a tee shirt and climb in bed next to him. We sleep with our backs to each other. Not in a spiteful manner, but without giving our actions a second thought it’s how we lay every night.

“Katniss, we can’t live like this,” he whispers. Apparently he isn’t sleeping.

“I know.”  
 

Gale

 

Every morning I’m awake before the sun. My morning routine has never changed: putting on clothing, eating breakfast, then brushing my teeth. The only time I can see the joy of Willow opening her eyes are days where work isn’t mandatory. Every day I leave for work while the whole house is sleeping. There is something beautiful about a sunrise. It brings a new day, a new chance to do something life changing. I’m always waiting for that opportunity to come.

Each morning on my way to work I listen to the same mixtape Katniss made me for my birthday one year back in high school; at least then we thoroughly enjoyed one another's presence. Now with the constant pressure of being a good father and taking care of the household's finances our relationship has certainly diminished. Our newest client is looking towards building a mansion for himself and his granddaughter. Mr. Coriolanus Snow isn’t the best person around, but he gives me a job to keep a roof above Willow’s head.

There’s talk of our boss Seneca Crane promoting someone. It would be nice if that were to be true, since my salary is the only thing paying the bills.

“Hawthorne, you’re putting up walls today.”

“I’m on it.” I reply.

I take my place and start working on the site. Just last week Marvel was by my side. He’s now out for the next three weeks because of an injury. This isn’t the safest place in the world and if it weren’t the need of some constant income I would be safely tucked away in college.

Lunch is a somber affair for me. I used to it with Marvel, but now it’s just me and whatever leftovers we had from last night's dinner. I don’t even believe how many times we have stew.

Five more hours to go.

➵

“Hey Gale can I see you in my office." Seneca asks as I’m about to head home for today.

“Yeah . . . Sure boss.” I take my worn jacket and walk into the small trailer parked at the edge of the build. As soon as it’s the both of us I quickly feel a wave of uneasiness. Seneca Crane was always a man the other workers never understood. With his weird sense of humor and appreciation for fashion, one can wonder why he even works in construction.

“How’s the child, Willow is it?”

“She’s doing well.”

“And the wife?”

“She’s fine.” I don’t bother correcting him after he says Katniss is my wife. We both keep on putting the ceremony off. If it weren’t for Willow I doubt we would be living in the same house.

“Let me just get to the point. You're a good man, a skilled worker. The company wants me on another build and I need to appoint the project manager to fill up my spot. I’m picking you. Before you say anything the pay is good and the hours aren’t as bad.” Seneca tells me.

“Sure. I’ll take the job.”

“Great. I’ll show you the ropes until I have to go.”

I finally have an opportunity.

➵

“I got promoted. I’m now a project manager,” I tell Katniss as we are cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. Willow is asleep in her bedroom and I can’t help but sometimes wonder if she ever feels the tension of this house.

“That’s great Gale. What about the hours?” I can already sense another fight brewing.

“They shouldn’t be as bad as before just more paper work. It comes with a raise.” My body tenses up awaiting the impact of her next words.

“What about Willow? How can you manage a new workload when you can’t even manage your own daughter?.” Her voice raises as the words flow out of her mouth. It always relates back to Willow.

“I don’t know. It’ll be easier we won’t be as strained financially and get some new furniture for her room. You said she’s growing out of it.” I reply calmly. If I learned anything from these past months of fighting is to never try and fight Katniss.

“We can’t keep pretending we are family if you are never home and I’m the one who has to take care of our daughter.”

“I’m trying Katniss, I really am, but someone has to bring in money. I know I’m not father of the year.” My voice effectively softens,”I’m trying Catnip... I really am.”

“I know Gale, I know.”

We aren’t fooling each other in this charade we have put up. Willow makes us happy, and if we have to stay together for the sake of her, than I would do it. I would do anything for her in a heartbeat.


	2. Chapter 2

Katniss **  
**

“You have a kid?” **  
**

I whip my head around to see who’s asked the question. A girl I recognize from my marketing course stares with wide inquisitive eyes at my phone. I’d just texted Gale to make sure he knows he has to pick up our daughter from my mother’s house as soon as he gets off from work. Apparently I’d had a shadow watching over our private conversation. **  
**

“A daughter,” I tell her, and secretly hope she doesn’t pry for more information. All I want is to finish up studying what I can find in the library on business ethics and to be on my way home. Her dark eyes bore into my own, like she’s trying to decipher whether or not I’m worth wasting time making small talk with, so I can think of nothing else to do than reciprocate her invasiveness.

“How old?” she presses.

“She’ll be three in December,” I reveal stoically.

“Sounds like you have your hands full.” She leans in close, picks up my green pen from beside a book on the table, and starts scrawling something on the page of loose-leaf paper I’ve been trying to take notes on all afternoon.

I purse my lips to keep from speaking out against her.

The girl’s written a phone number in my notebook. She adds her name, Clove, and circles the message twice.

What is this - flirting? I can’t say I’ve been hit on by another girl before.

“I have a little brother the same age, so I’ve had my practice looking after toddlers. If you ever need someone to keep an eye on your daughter so you - or you and your husband - can have some time to yourself or whatever, I can help out. I mean, I’m just trying my best to take up some odd jobs to save up what I can and finally move out of my parents’ house. I’m thinking if they see I can be independent they’ll give me the liberty to pursue what field I want to go into, not this lame corporate world you and I are destined for."

“I’m a little pressed financially myself. Thanks, though, I’ll keep it in mind." As if I'd entrust a stranger with my own flesh and blood anyway.

She nods. Clove certainly is a talker, and though I’m not, I try to be polite enough, but I can’t help wanting to drill it into her head how naïve she is! How she’s so lucky to be supported by her parents still!

I’m inevitably envious of her freedom. She isn’t tied down by a child and just doesn’t seem to know how good she has it - much to my annoyance. Even when I was her age, fresh out of high school, I was forced to deal with her responsibilities tenfold.

“And I’m not married,” I tell her, hoping to conclude the conversation. I don’t need a friend. I didn’t come here to make friends. I want my degree and I want out.

"Well," she states, rising from her chair and throwing a leather messenger bag over her shoulder, "I'll be on my way home. See you tomorrow . . . Katniss Everdeen."

When she says my name, Clove traces an index finger along the heading of my research paper where it lies, raising an eyebrow and offering me a smirk as if to show off her deductive skills.

My eyes follow her all the way out of the library, her steps lighthearted and her russet ponytail bouncing behind her.

Something irks me about Clove. But then again, I can't ignore the possibility that it might just be the fact that I am nothing like her.

I'm the opposite of carefree Clove with her unfated future - the rest of mine predestined for a life full of motherly and financial obligations already.

Realizing I'll definitely not be getting anymore work done tonight as my mind is buzzing with irritation, I start to pack up my bag and make my way over to my friend Johanna where she sits at the computer lab sector of the library. She's my ride home.

➵

I drop my keys on the counter and kick off my shoes the second I'm through the front door, ready as ever to collapse onto my bed and get some sleep, when my cell phone rings and distracts me from my immediate intentions.

A photo of myself and Gale appears on the screen, and I take his call.

"Katniss, I'm sorry, I can't pick up Willow just yet. I have to book another electrician for the Snow mansion job. Our other one's licence just expired last month so I have to find someone else. It's urgent," he explains before thinking to say hello. His tone is bored and unapologetic

I feel my face grow hot with anger, but I know I can't lash out at him. It'll only make matters worse.

"Whatever, Gale, I'll tell my mother she'll need to keep her for a few extra hours. Just get there as soon as you can," I snap.

I end the call before he has the opportunity to refute.

This promotion of his better be worth it, because all it's done so far is heightened the tension between us. He promised the hours would be shorter, but so far he's spent an extra three in office than he usually spends on site, all for what's panning out to be just a meager raise.

I'll have to bite my tongue around him, otherwise he'll remind me that it's not my place to complain about money when he's the only one bringing any at all of it in for the three of us.

I dial for my mother, but my sister answers instead.

"Prim, it would mean the world if you could just keep Willow for another hour or two. Gale has the car and he isn't off work yet."

"You know that's no problem, we can keep her for as long as you need. She's always a pleasure," my sister assures me, and I know my ears aren't fooling me when I hear the smile in her voice.

Sometimes I can't help but to dwell on the fact that it seems I can depend on my seventeen year old sister to take better care of my daughter than I can her own father.

 

Gale

 

They new office they gave me wasn't much. I had a simple desk that held an old computer and a couple of chairs. Yet here, in my new workplace, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. I always wanted to become some type of business man and this is the closest thing I'm getting to it.

I sit down and take in the feeling of not having to be in the heat working for who knows how long. The last week has been very busy with the loss of Seneca. Apparently, he isn't the best worker because the amount of paperwork I have to complete is frustrating.

After about a couple hours of work I finally finished everything. Hopefully, Katniss will finally be able to appreciate the new addition of money to our household.

I take this time to make some preparations for my mother's birthday. We already have a gift picked out, but I'm also in charge of the cake. The only bakery I'm familiar with is the Mellark Bakery. Katniss loves their cheese buns. I used to take her there a few times a week, and now smile at the memory of it. Because of this, the owner knows me as a regular, and even a friend. The bakery usually accepts only walk-ins and doesn’t open up their orders to its phone line, but Earnest Mellark had given me his phone number in case I should ever need anything.

"This is the Mellark Bakery, what can we get for you?"

"Hey, Mr. Mellark, it’s Gale. Sorry for calling. I’m looking to get a cake for my mother’s birthday if you could do that for me," I state.

"That’s no trouble at all, what kind?"

"Just a simple chocolate cake. Nothing extravagant. Would it be alright if you could have it ready for me to pick up on Saturday morning?"

"Of course, and tell your mom happy birthday for me," he says. Which reminds me that I should probably call and wish her that myself. Her birthday is today, but Katniss and I can’t find the time to celebrate until the weekend. As bad as it sounds, my mother doesn’t seem to mind. She’s glad we remembered in the first place.

We offer one another a goodbye before hanging up the phone.

I run my hands through my hair, debating whether I should leave work early. I love Willow, but sometimes being in the same room as Katniss brings out the worst in me. I've made my decision and grab my coat.

_Katniss, I'll pick up Willow from my mom's. I got off early._ I type. I don't bother waiting for a response and head over to my childhood home.

➵

"Hey, mom."

"Gale! I haven't seen you around here in awhile."

"Well, I got off early and wanted to pick up Willow. Take her out for ice cream or something." I reply with a smile. It's been awhile since I’ve had time to do these small things with Willow.

"Daddy!!" Screams Willow stumbling down the hall. I gather her up in my arms and twirl her around.

"Ready to go?" I ask cheerfully. She responds by nodding enthusiastically.

There's this ice cream parlor near the park that Katniss and I would always go to as kids. She would always get strawberry while I would opt for chocolate. It seems Willow took after me in the ice cream department.

When we get home the sun is just setting and Katniss has dinner on the table. "And where have you two been?" She asks Willow but pointedly looks at me.

"Ice cream."

At the answer Katniss's permanent scowl finally gives way into the beginning of a smile. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Katniss

“You don’t have to be so modest.” Gale steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and his hair still sopping wet.

"What?" I ask, pretending to be oblivious of the fact that I'm getting dressed deliberately behind the far side of our dresser. 

"You know I've seen… you," he says. "Nevermind."

I'm not particularly comfortable with nudity in general, but especially around strangers. Which is what Gale feels like to me of late. It's an irrelevant, petty concern, but I don't want to feel physically exposed around someone I find it difficult even to be open emotionally with. 

"I'm going to pick up your mother's cake. You'll have to get Willow up a half hour or so," I tell him, eager to be on my way. 

➵

A bell dings as I push open the door of the bakery. The aroma of fresh bread instantly enlightens my senses and warmth from the baked goods and the ovens fills the space with a comforting heat. I don’t see Mr. Mellark, but instead a young man resembling him at the front counter meticulously embellishing a beautiful chocolate cake with tiny white flowery designs and intricate patterns running up the sides. I almost want to stand here and watch instead of disturbing.

“Hi,” I dare interrupt.

“Good morning.” He doesn’t so much as glance up, seemingly lost in a trance of artfully decorating that cake.

“I’m here to pick up a cake. The order should be under Gale Hawthorne?”

“Oh, this is actually it right in front of me, sorry, my father told me we shouldn’t be expecting anyone until at least nine this morning. I’ll just be a minute if that’s okay with you,” he says nervously, still denying me the liberty of meeting my eyes. 

I nod and assure him it's not an issue. It’s fascinating watching him work, anyway.

“I didn’t know the baker had a son,” I say, fixing my gaze on his long, elegant eyelashes. Of all the years I’ve been coming here, never have I seen anyone besides a smiling Mr. Mellark behind the counter. 

“Oh, I came back out here to work for my family just this summer after I finished school, actually.”

It takes him a while to finish the cake, but I don’t mind leaning over the counter to wordlessly scrutinize every graceful stroke his careful hand makes. 

“Gale said he ordered just a simple chocolate cake, are you sure this is ours?” I’m in awe at the extravagance of it. It would take me a week or more to make a shabby attempt at crafting something beautiful as this, and even then I’d probably grow frustrated with it after fifteen minutes.

Then I look around the shop only to find the shelves stocked with cakes and pastries that must have taken ten times the painstaking work as his little chocolate cake. Hazelle's does look simple in comparison to the assortment of goods on display. 

“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the sight. I can’t tell if I’ve never looked this closely around the bakery before or it’s just never looked like this.

“Do you like them? I decorate them all myself,” the young man says, startlingly glaring up at me with penetrative blue eyes.

“All of them?”

“No one has Peeta’s eye for detail, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my cakes,” the baker  
interrupts with a kindhearted grin, sliding a pair of oven mitts onto his hands to take some fresh loaves of nut and raisin bread out of one of the industrial-sized ovens. “Although if that’s the case, he should’ve taken these out before they burnt.”

“All done,” Peeta declares, setting down his piping bag of white icing and brushing some off of his hand and onto his fitted baseball tee. 

“Thanks, it’s beautiful. I almost don’t want to eat it,” I tease. Peeta gives a light laugh and blushes just barely. “How much?”

“Twenty-four dollars, sixty-eight cents.”

“Oh, crap.” I dig through my bag in search of my wallet but it fails to reveal itself. “I left my wallet at home, I can run back and get it really quick-”

“That’s okay, it’ll be on us.” He flashes me a charitable smile.

I don’t accept his offer immediately. I hate the feeling of being in debt to anyone, particularly a stranger who I might never get the opportunity to repay.

“Hey, you buying cheese buns probably makes up half our revenue, it’s the least we can do to show we appreciate a valued customer,” his father chimes in.

I’d theorize that kindness runs in their genes if it weren’t for the baker’s wife marching purposefully down the stairs of the above living space and glaring at Peeta in a disapproving manner while she grabs her apron from a coat rack. “We do not run a charity, Peeta,” his strong jaw tightens. “You can’t just let any pretty little thing wander in here and flirt her way out of paying.”

Peeta’s eyes narrow as he slides the cake into a box, but he doesn’t retort to his mother. He mouths an apology to me instead, laced with embarrassment. It takes some willpower not to run away on the spot from Mrs. Mellark and her offhand, cutting remarks. From the urge to feel for Peeta.

“I’ll cover it, Celia, you’re going to drive away our customers talking like that,” the baker tells his wife in a hushed voice.

“They’re not customers if they don’t pay.”

“I just left my wallet at home, I can pay you back,” I correct her shakily.

Mr. Mellark has his hand on her back to settle her by now. Peeta assures me again, disregarding his mother, not to fret the cost of the cake - but I don’t want to leave without compensating for his craftsmanship. 

“I promise I’ll stop in later,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peeta stresses.

I nod in resignation, take my cake, and start for the door, wishing I’d walked a little quicker as not to have heard the bit of their conversation that I did.

“You don’t know the first thing about business, Peeta!” his mother had said.

“I was just doing something nice. Maybe you wouldn’t know the first thing about that! What does it even matter anyway? I can take the money out of my pocket right now and put it in the cash register and it wouldn’t be any different from her money!” Peeta retaliated. By the strain of his voice, it seemed to be taking him a lot to retain his composure.

“We don’t condone bad behavior. We can’t have a respectable establishment if we cater to the irresponsibilities of people like that!”

“People like that? It was an honest mistake.”

“You don't remember her? She wasn't the one you used to pine after in high school? The slut in the grade below you who ended up pregnant? Irresponsible."

I don't linger in anticipation of hearing Peeta attempt to defend me. I make a point of slamming the door on the way out - bell jingling violently - in case Mrs. Mellark had forgotten I was more than within earshot of the exchange. 

 

Gale

We arrive at my mother's house with the cake at promptly one in the afternoon. After Katniss came back from the bakery, she took to getting Willow prepared. She seemed to be in one of her moods so I'm just going to let her calm down. Not long after we ring the doorbell my mother greets us. Immediately, I engulf her in a hug and give her my best wishes. After I let go, we all enter my childhood home which is now filled balloons and tacky decorations. 

Posy is the first to notice us almost stumbling to meet Willow. The two quickly flee our sight giggling and smiling about everything that catches their eyes. Katniss although surrounded by joy, seems to be disconnected. I give her a small smile and we make our way to the backyard.

On the patio there are a couple of tables set up with food and lounge chairs. The cake is placed near the other sweets by Katniss, while I give my mother her gift. Vick and Rory are throwing around a football along with some of the cousins. Mrs. Everdeen is talking with the other women and Prim, no doubt, is looking after Willow and my sister.

I decide to make my way to my two brothers. After all that is going on between the promotion and Willow, I haven't really had the time to spend time with them.

"Gale, haven't seen you in forever!" Vick throws me the ball.

"Yeah, where have you been?" Rory adds.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around much, but things are just piling up. I don't know how much longer Katniss and I are going to be able to hold it together." I reply passing the ball to Rory. "How's Prim doing?" I add smirking.

"We are not together," Rory says with a slight twinge of red making its way to his cheeks.

"Yet." Vick laughs with a humorous grin. I then begin to laugh and immediately am hit with the ball. This makes us all start to chuckle and I'm thrown back to freshman year. Back then I had a blast teaching them football or any other sport. Life was simple. I picked up the ball and continued throwing it.

➵

We are all sitting at the table hearing old stories about my mom. The cake has been cut and I'm digging into a decent sized piece. Katniss is sitting next to me helping Willow with her own slice. I can't help but stare with adoration at my child who at this rate is going to have more cake on her face than in her stomach. 

My mother seems to notice my gaze on Willow and just has to ask, "So can I be expecting more grandchildren any time soon?" My eyes widen and Katniss chokes on her piece of cake. Everybody's attention turns to Katniss's awkward coughing. 

Trying to get the subject dropped, I say, "We are perfectly content with Willow." I don't bother to mention that we probably aren't going to get married or actually have to sleep together to have a child.

My mother seems to see what I'm trying to say and Miss Everdeen tries to save whatever is left of their hopes by saying, "They're both young, Hazelle, they have plenty of time to figure things out." She winks at us. Katniss shoots me a look of warning not to add anything more. 

"Well I suppose it would be wise for Katniss to finish college and Gale to save up more money." The subject is left at that and the room soon resumes its normal side conversations. I just sit there awkwardly as my brothers are giving me sympathetic glances. If Katniss was in a bad mood earlier, she's probably seething now. 

Prim decides to step in and quietly asks Katniss to come along with her and clean up Willow. I turn my attention to the conversation among my brothers about what is going on in Panem High School.

It is about eight thirty when Willow falls asleep on the couch watching some kid's show. I gently take her in my arms and follow Katniss into the car. 

We are both quiet and I'm sure she just doesn't want our prolonged argument about what my mother said to wake Willow. The car ride is suffocating. Katniss's hands are steady on the wheel and her glare doesn't leave the road.

I take a chance and start fiddling with the radio. She quickly snaps her glare to me and I retreat leaving the speaker's playing Taylor Swift's recent hit. I guess the song Bad Blood has much more in common with our relationship than the writer could have ever thought.

When we arrive home I slowly carry Willow to her bed, trying to prolong the inevitable talk with Katniss.

"Gale, what the hell was that! Why is your mom asking about grandchildren?" 

"I don't know Katniss. I never really told her how things are. I mean look at how much she's done for us. We can't just say we would rather be on opposite sides of the country than in the same room." 

"Oh, so you just happen to forget to mention the fact that we are never getting married to your own mother." 

I don't really know how to handle Katniss. I calmly answer, "I'll tell her soon enough. We haven't met other people yet so there really is nothing to tell." 

"How can you be so... so... you know what I can't even fight with you anymore. You're just too calm about everything. I'm going to bed." 

"If it'll make you feel better I'll just sleep on the couch tonight." She responds by glaring and making her way to our bedroom. Using a spare toothbrush I get ready for bed in the small half bath we have connected to the living room.

Before laying down on the couch I turn on some late night TV. As Baggage runs in the background I strip down into my boxers and slide into the couch. 

This couch has more warmth than the bed I share with Katniss.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clove invites Katniss to a barbecue at her house.

Katniss

Halfway through the hour of my marketing course on Monday, I feel a hand fondling my braid. I jump a bit in my seat.

“Hey, what kind of conditioner do you use?” Of course it’s Clove. 

“I don’t know, some kind of generic two-in-one thing,” I whisper over my shoulder, not wishing to interrupt Professor Latier’s spiel about defining target audiences.

“Really? Have you seen those commercials for that miracle celebrity hair product? Because your hair is what I’d imagine that feeling like . . . it’s like silk, and you’ll have to teach me how to braid hair like that. I can’t do hair for my life . . .” 

Mr. Latier clears his throat and directs his impatient gaze towards the two of us. “Miss Everdeen, would you save the chit-chat for some other time?”

A refute is never worthwhile with him. I nod shyly, strangling Clove twice over in my mind.

➵

“Wait up!” a voice pleads. A quickening pace pads across the tile hallway, and I feel the urge to flee when I immediately recognize the high pitched, ever-cheerful tone as the one belonging to the pest previously seated behind me. “Sorry about before, it was never my intention to get you in trouble. Anyway, I was just trying to strike up a conversation so I could tell you that my family’s throwing a barbecue this weekend and my mom’s inviting all of her friends’ toddlers to come play with my brother, so I figured what’s one more? I’d love to meet your daughter, and I was thinking we could hook up to study for that exam coming up. My grades in this class aren’t really satisfactory right now and maybe having someone else there could help me focus or something?”

The way she talks so much and so incessantly is exhausting.

“I really don’t know, I might have some plans with my . . .” my mind races for a word to suit Gale. Boyfriend? The word feels so inappropriate in the context, but that’s what I decide on. “Boyfriend,” I lie, wishing I had a legitimate excuse to blow off Clove.

“Oh, I don’t swing for that team . . . if that’s what you’re implying. I’m just . . . trying to make some friends here.” A fumbling for words replaces her constant streamline of speech all of the sudden. It’s strange. 

“It’s not that, I actually really have to do . . . something with him.”

“Maybe another time,” she suggests. I okay that and she saunters away, missing the hop in her step a little.

Before turning a corner to the arts wing, she gives me one last look and opens her mouth to somewhat bitterly point out that I’m a terrible liar. 

“Wait, fine! I’ll think about it,” I say in resignation, jogging to catch up with her. “Is there a reason you’re so keen on trying to be friends with me though?” I add as politely as possible.

“I honestly was just under the impression that you could use a friend. I’ve never seen you walking around with anyone but yourself, and you always seem kind of . . . grumpy.”

At that I grow a bit defensive. “Well, thanks, but I’m fine on my own. I don’t really need anyone.”

Apparently she takes that as an insult to her hospitality. “Well, fine then. I thought everyone just avoids you because they think you’re the school whore. But you’re kind of a bitch, too. Not like bitch bitch, but in a good way.”

I stop in my tracks, letting the echoes of her footsteps die out as she leaves me alone in an empty corridor. In a good way? Even so, I don't know which of the reasons she mentioned I'd rather be widely regarded as. 

Walking home, I'm a little hyper-conscious of the appearance I'm giving off to other pedestrians. Anyone I think I may vaguely recognize, do they know me as the slut or for my apparent rudeness? I find myself about to cross my arms over my midsection like I used to when my greatest fear in the world was people noticing I was pregnant. I guess you can’t cover up an awful personality in the same way.

I’ve never really cared about people finding me irritable before so I decide to not let it bother me now, but I do hate that Clove’s efforts to be my friend obligate me to be a little more personable.

Even if I do find her a bit too chipper for my liking, Willow is getting to an age where she could really use a friend her own age.

➵

On Saturday, I wake shivering with a sheen of sweat on my forehead. It feels like my brain is about to pound out of my skull.

I check my phone even though on its lowest brightness setting the screen still escalates my migraine. Barbecue starts at one! Hope to see you there, Cove has texted me. Fat chance of that. I heave myself out of bed just in time to reach the toilet before I throw up what seems like everything I’ve eaten in the past month.

I pull the comforter from the bed and wrap it tightly around me as I slowly, one careful step after another, travel to the kitchen. Gale sips coffee in his pajamas with a magazine in hand while Willow fiddles with the leg of a chair on the floor across the room. 

“You look . . .” Gale says.

‘Like shit, I know, thank you. Good morning to you, too,” I say. He scowls at me for using language in front of our daughter.

Looking at Willow, Clove’s words come back to my mind. Prim can’t be Willows only friend forever.

“What are you doing today?” I ask Gale, taking orange juice from the refrigerator and hoping I’ll be able to keep it down.

“Nothing, why?”

“Willow has a playdate,” I say. She perks up at the sound of this and repeats the word playdate excitedly. “Could you drive her?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Gale

My GPS tells me that the quasi-mansion in front of my car is, in fact, where I’m supposed to be dropping off Willow. I hold her hand as we walk past the gate into the backyard.

“Clove, who’s this tall glass of water?” a blonde girl in short shorts and a very low cut top says when I approach.

The brunette beside her turns around.

“Uh, this is Willow,” I say. “I’m Gale.”

“Aw! She’s even more adorable than I imagined! From the glimpse of the picture I saw, I was picturing a tiny Katniss, scowl and everything. She couldn’t make it today?” she says.

“Ah, no. She’s pretty sick today. And you are . . .?”

“Clove. We have business classes together,” she says. “Well, Willow’s going to have a great time! Tell Katniss I hope she feels better. You should get back and treat your sick lady. You never know, maybe all she needs is a little action,” she nudges me.

I scoff. “As if,” I mean to say under my breath, but it comes out significantly more audible than I’d have liked. Clove looks at me.

“I just mean . . . when she’s sick, the best thing to do is steer clear,” I say, trying to clear the air.

“Well, you can always hang out here for a while.” She smiles, and her smile is just inviting enough that I tell her I suppose I can stay for a drink.

I must lean against the deck railing for a few hours with Clove and her friends. The blonde one takes it upon herself to replenish my drink nearly every time I take a sip, and I guess I don’t really take note in the moment because I find myself quite tipsy all of the sudden.

The five of them have taken to chatting about their love lives or lack thereof. Finnick talks about his girlfriend, Annie, with such admiration. The blonde, Glimmer, speaks of her boyfriend, Cato, and you can see the lust in her eyes.

“So how did you and Katniss end up together?” Glimmer asks me.

“Um, well we were best friends as children. Never anything romantic until, well, one night some things happened and we . . . made Willow, so I guess it all started there.”

“And it was happily ever after?” she says.

It must be the alcohol impairing my judgement, but I decide what harm could come from spilling the qualms of my relationship to a group of strangers?

I laugh. “Happily ever after? I sleep on the couch and we haven’t so much as kissed in probably months.”

Finnick nods empathetically but distantly, like he can’t possibly imagine what that must be like. Clove takes a long sip of her drink.

I hope I never have to tell Katniss what happens on my way into the house to get Willow when it’s almost time to go.

After a long evening of us all spilling our troubles, Clove meets me at the side of her house.

“You’re not happy,” she says, and she stumbles a little bit in the grass. She’s quite drunk.

I don’t say anything, but Clove takes this as an invitation to stand on her toes in my face, until I stoop a little to meet her eyes, and she kisses me hard. I feel like a terrible person for not pulling away. For enjoying it.


End file.
